These few words
by Daughter of the Bomb
Summary: One hundred and thirty-six give or take prompts for Ruby Lucas/Killian Jones.
1. A

**Hello lovelies! This is a story based completely on one hundred and thirty-six give or take prompts I have taken for the pairing Captain Hook/Red Riding Hood from the show 'Once Upon a Time'. Each prompt differs in length and time period in their relationship, so every one will be different. Hope you enjoy!**

**~D.o.t.B.**

**abandon**

"Killian, get out."

"Red-."

"Do I have to say it again?" She hates the way her voice cracks in the chilled air, forcing the hatred of his heat of his eyes of his voice of his _warmth_ of his everything she won't let herself have.

"Just listen to me for a second, Red-."

"Why should I? You left me just like everyone said you would, you broke my heart just like everyone said you would, and now you're coming back and begging for forgiveness just like everyone said you would. So why should I?" She doesn't like this, being mean to him, but it's not her fault it's his. He left, she didn't; hell, she even tried to follow until she realized what an idiot she was being. It wasn't until it dawned on her what a completely useless pathetic little girl he'd turned her into. It stabs her like that, the carved sadness nested inside, sudden and sharp as ice.

"You abandoned me. I don't know if I can ever let you come back, so get out. For the both of us, leave. Pull along some other girl and tell her how happy she makes you, how amazing she makes you feel inside, how her smile is the only reason your heart beats, and leave her like you did me and move on to someone else, again." There's nothing but a canyon of silence from him before words run from his lips, liquid blue and salty with weight.

"I don't want to be with _some other girl_. I want you, and that's what scares me, not the wolf in you, just you. That's why I-."

"Give me one good reason." There's a drought when he doesn't speak, cracking with dust and chapped lips as she waits.

"I can't say it." He wants to, and she wants him to, but the last person he said it to had their heart ripped out of their chest, those very words pulled on their last breath.

"I'm sorry."

"Get out."

**allow**

This just isn't very fair, the way she most definitely knows that he's looking and lets him; lets his eyes graze her hellish lips and the warm curve of her skin and flit to the speckled tension of her eyes when his own lips cannot, and his own skin cannot, and his eyes can barely meet hers without some expansion in lust.

But she lets him live in her family's bed and breakfast, lets him work in her family's diner, and lets him eat his worth there; so he has no room to risk anything. He won't let himself touch her, won't allow himself room to break her heart, because if he did he doesn't know what on Earth he'd do without her.

So he'll sit and itch and curse himself, even when it's all her fault.

God help him if he ever says something about it, let alone acts upon it.

**anticipation**

"Stop it."

"Excuse me?"

"Stop it."

"Stop… what?"

"You know."

"No I don't."

"Yes you do."

"Uh, no I don't. Why, what's the matter?" With a face made of unbroken stone he stares completely unaffected into her albeit stunning shards of an ocean's eyes, he speaks, voice steeled and level.

"Nothing." And then proceeds to walk with a completely undaunted swagger out of the diner heading towards his room, there he rests himself by lying in a nine hour comatose field filled with little sleep and an island's worth of self hatred.

He gets away with it for half a week before some thing like it happens again.

"How do you get away with walking around in that?"

"In what? You mean my uniform?"

"That might be a uniform but I wouldn't call it one for waitressing." There's teeth in his voice that he never meant to have, but they've already slipped in by defense, encouraging the anger in Red.

"Oh yeah? We'll I'd like to see you juggle this many plates and memorize this many orders and somehow live off a French fry of a tip, but oh wait, that's right. You're living off of us, we have given you food, shelter, and water in case you forgot, in exchange for work; which I remind you, we don't really need, so get back to the kitchen Killian." She stomps away, her platinum heels a war drum in the lobby as he starts in early on his self loathing, because apparently he didn't get enough to learn his lesion.

He avoids her after that; it's the best result of his idiocy that he can think of. Well, he avoids her after he leaves her a slice of someone else's order of cherry pie and a note that's has 'sorry' written on it. She deserves better, but this is the best he can do, for now at least.

Two days later of course she corners him in the back where he is trying to find the freshest bread they have, and most definitely not thinking about her, when she clears her throat with hands perched on her far too bare hips.

"How can I help you?" His tone is anything but helpful, only hopeful to satisfy her and get her away.

"Depends, did you get that stick out of your ass?" His lack of reply with a small pinched mouth and locked eyes is answer enough.

"Well then. Are you at least going to give me some sort of explanation about what's been going on with you lately?" He doesn't answer again but it doesn't work as well as it did last time, seeing as it's only met with her staring back, cracking his resolve bit by bit.

"… I just think that a woman such as yourself shouldn't wear outfits like that." He realizes how wrong it is that he just said, but she's already angry enough.

"Excuse me? I wear what I want thank you very much-."

"That's not what I meant, Red-."

"Then what did you mean?"

"I don't want you attracting unwanted attention. Men are weak and you are…" _amazing, fantastic, brilliant, willful, stunning as the sea_ "Strong." Her voice's softness makes his heart beat in a lull it shouldn't, comforting in the way a lullaby should be.

"I can handle creeps y'know." Her words are tiny thorns but her voice remains smooth as a weathered stone.

"You shouldn't have to." An unspoken _every man should be a gentle man to you_ falls along his words, but he captures them and hides them away.

"… Thanks." Only then does he realize his eyes have been stuck to the target of her lips, something he tries to pull away from. His eyes meet hers again as he speaks one last time.

"Goodnight Ruby."

He can't quite ignore her anymore, but that doesn't stop him from lying in his bed anticipating nine more hours of cursing himself out.

**armor**

Weeks after their big fight and she's kept her word, and has made no notion to see him and he's kept away on her wait so as not to hurt her. It hurts him like salt in a fresh wound and he tries to keep her with him, but she's falling like water through his fingers, falling away from him no matter how he tries to hold her. He's not leaving her, it was one small thing he'll regret 'til God knows when and he'll stop the world to make sure he never does it again.

So he stays, not in her room or even his room at the bed and breakfast and even without any friends, he stays. Even if it's in a wreaked old house, he stays. Even without much food or water, he stays. Even despite all the heated glares and spitted words from everyone who lives there, he stays.

She is beyond worth it, so he stays.

And when there is a moment where she sees him, ragged and rotten and rained upon, and there's a brim of concern and somewhere something caring in soft blues he can't help but count it as a small chink in her armor.

**ash**

"Killian, you're pretty much lighting all the food on fire and we can't just serve people ashes, so concentrate." She feels like she's being mean so afterwards she adds:

"Please."

"I'm on it."

This is just getting ridiculous. She's calling Emma tonight.


	2. B

**band**

She does actually end up calling Emma, she just doesn't end up telling Emma who exactly it is she is rhetorically asking about kinda-sorta.

"So my friend-."

"Which is you."

"No, they're my friend."

"No they're definitely you."

"NO THEY'RE NOT EMMA THAT IS BESIDE THE POINT."

"ANYWAY, what did you want to ask me?"

"Okay, so Person A wants to ask out Person B in a very friendly kind of way that can still be open to interpretation, in the case that Person B acts less emotionally constipated in the near future, to see a band that will go unspecified, how should Person A do it?"

"… Is Person B a woman 'cuz I'm not gunna lie, I always thought you and Belle were kinda cute-."

"NO. Emma I'm more sensible than that, everyone knows that Rump would kill anyone who would lay a hand on her."

"Technically you wouldn't have to lay a hand on her…"

"How does that even- never mind."

"…Is it Dr. Hopper then?"

"Goodnight Emma."

**bail**

Her choice vehicle of transportation on that night is a inked stallion warped and bent into the confines of metal and a slick black that catches the light from the Sheriff's station. She too is wearing black without a warm smile or anything warm about her, she gives him a chill, further circling the cruelty that she is. It's not until they're situated in the car that she begins to speak to him directly for the first time of the night.

"You're lucky to have been let out so soon Mr. Jones." This isn't an act of kindness, she doesn't give those around to just anyone.

"I wouldn't call it luck seeing as a great deal of this town wants my head." She has no reason to keep him around, no one does, exile for him is more than bound to come. Exile or death at least.

"True, forgiveness in this town is hard to come by. But at the very least you could thank me, Mr. Gold made sure that your bail money would be heinous, it seems your only luck is that I still have the right connections."

"With who?" His crew has scattered to the odd ends, refusing to be affiliated until his real title of Captain comes into play, something he doesn't yet have the dignity to bear.

"A mad man with a lot of hats and plenty experience to know that you might be the only man able to sail us out of here." He knows already that she couldn't possibly be talking about Smee, so he takes careful note to keep an eye out for such a man.

"If you haven't noticed your _evil _Highness, my ship is all but yet in ruins, so unless you have some other ship, we can't sail." It's a low blow and he knows it, but he's become the lowest of the low it seems, so he says it without apology.

"A ruined ship can be easily fixed with the right amount of magic, something I'll be able to conjure once I am properly rested; my battle with Mother left my magic exhausted and I sincerely doubt Rumplestiltskin would be wiling to help you. And on a further note Mr. Jones, I am neither evil nor a queen any longer, something I suggest you do as well if you want to win favors."

"I never considered myself a queen, Regina, but if you insist-."

"Pretend Killian, for once in your worthless life, pretend you're at least half a good man or else you'll never see your precious sea ever again, is that clear?"

"Yes Madam."

"Here's your stop." She pulls over in the center of the town near the giant clock tower and it's raining. He assumes that she's going to be coming with him, so when he closes the door with her still inside he's surprised when she locks it, rolling down the window by a sliver. She drives off leaving him yelling after her.

"But where am I to sleep?" Her voice carries from the speeding vehicle.

"Start using those favors I was telling you about."

**bargain**

It's on a rare day that he's waitressing when of course He shows up.

"Ten dollars for a round of chocolate chip pancakes, hash browns, and some ice tea seems a bit much, don't you think Killian dearie?" And there's the smile he hates. The acidic little smirk that bites a disease that disfigures, the twinkle in his eye where bodies lie.

"That's what the total adds up to so that's how it goes. Call me Hook. We're not friends, Crocodile."

"Ouch, what after all this time? Personally I thought we had something special. Tsk. Perhaps we could come to a bargain, dearie? Prices these days really do cost an arm and a limb. Sometimes even a hand." If he had a sword right now Rumplestiltskin wouldn't have a head. The woman sitting across from him is starting to look uncomfortable.

"Sir, if you continue to be a hassle I will be forced to escort you off of the premise."

"Wait a second, is that Bell I see? Hey Bell how are you doing babe? I haven't seen you in forever." His eyes suddenly find themselves on Red as she tumbles forward drawn to her apparent friend in the booth, a side laughed smile painted on her features.

"I'm fine darling, just grabbing some brunch before cleaning up the library, it's a lot bigger on the inside than it looks on the outside." She's arrived and is leaning along the side of the booth, heart wide and open and truly listening in the way someone caring does.

"Well, you know if you ever need any help I can ask Granny for a break and come on over." Bell blushes slightly with modesty as her eyes split second dance over to the demon seated across from her.

"No thank you Ruby, I already have someone helping me." She looks between them once, understanding.

"Oh." Then her eyes widen and her head tips back, fully realizing.

"_Oh_." A knowing smile bends her lips and she looks almost ready to dance.

"Well then. Killian there's a mess in the back that needs cleaning and we usually get new customers around now, so you can just make their meal free and move on." He tries not to scream in anger as the crocodile chuckles to himself not so silently.

**beauty**

All she ever hears about is how ugly he is. His evil little ways, how disgusting and tarnished and worn he is. His putrid and horrid habits. How he swept wives away, taking a mother away from a father and son. How many he's murdered in broad daylight, and has plundered and stolen from good, honest, and hardworking people. How he's reached out to touch people who only turn rotten and black with dirt on their soul. How he's been to Hell and forced to leave for he danced too roughly with the Devil.

But here, with a broom in his hand cradling a broken piece of a smile with a hummed tune in his head, Red can't help but find him a fractioned decimal of beautiful.

Because everyone one knows that anything that comes from the sea, deep down, has a pearl inside.

**beckon**

She thinks nothing of it when Dr. Whale curls a finger to beckon her over; she's been tired of his shenanigans for a while now so she's really just learned to deal with his messed version of flirting. He's just another customer, and she can handle it. She's stronger than people know, and if he ever did anything really bad she could always just get revenge come the next full moon. Which is a terrible way to think of it like that, but she can't help it sometimes, the wolf scares her enough that it's easier to joke about it. Even though no one but her hears her jokes, which is probably just another bad sign she's decided to ignore like everything else.

"What can I get for you Doctor?" It's no small truth that he's wanted her and a couple of the nuns to play his nurse, she's never really understood this guy but she kinda hopes that she never will. His head needs to get checked.

"Oh the usual Little Miss Red, eggs sunny side up on toast and a blue berry muffin with some coffee." He has one of those smiles that bleeds self satisfaction, it gives her chills so she simply reminds herself that he will never get a girl like her. Ever. And it calms her down.

"Is that all?" His eyes leave hers and instead scrape down her body.

"Indeed Little Gem." Unfortunately she has to turn around to walk away, knowing that his eyes are burning holes into her hips and every other part of her that she'd rather he never see. Once she gets back to the kitchen Killian's there looking like he swallowed glass with a cocktail of lemonade.

"That is exactly what I was talking about Red."

"The whole 'unwanted attention' thing again, really?"

"Yes, really. I don't like him."

"Well, what do you not like about him?" He doesn't say anything but he gets one of those looks again, the one where he's trying to communicate the flames of a thousand suns through his eyes but it's just not working as well as he thinks it is.

"Do I really need to remind you that I can fend for myself?" He keeps up the face.

"Or that even when I've been alone with him he's never really tried anything?" And that manages to shock him back into the present with eyes widened to the white and brows pulled down.

"What?!" She just rolls her eyes at him. But when he begins to move with violence in his step she stops him.

"Don't even think about hurting one of our customers."

"I wasn't going to hurt him per say. I thought it'd be interesting to see how well our good Doctor fights." Now there's a fire in his eye, burning and writhing with a thirst.

"No." Most women he knows would've jumped at the chance for a man to show their defense in her namesake, but Red's never been like most women, which is more than enough to describe all the ways he doesn't know how to deal with her.

"Fine." And with all her good advice given yet, he goes back to the kitchen.

**bend**

He doesn't know what method she's using in this game of psychological war fair, but whatever it is, it's working. All of it, working. Her eyes? Working. That uniform of hers? Definitely working. Her lipstick? Totally working. That tiny space between the bottom of her shirt and the beginning of her skirt, that patch of skin? Positively working. Her headstrong nature and incessant reminders of her independence, how she can take care of herself and how she doesn't need anyone, and how willing she is to take on an entire war by herself? Undoubtedly, hair pullingly, nine-hour-of-laying-in-darkness working.

He should be complaining about how she has him completely wrapped around her finger, him willing to bend or break his arm to help her, but he really isn't. He is beyond okay with this.

And he has no idea why.

**bind**

They keep together with the edges of fingertips and promises made on half breaths. He kisses her on the split pieces of dust across the room and she caresses his hardened face with the softness of her eyes. They drag, cloth stuck on a nail until they're both pulled and ripped and stretched much too far than either of them could ever take till they collapse, unraveled and loosened and warm in the strings wrapped around one another.

He is the ocean and she the forest and they meet one another in the between of the shore and the rocks every chance they can. Her freedom flings things upon him as his careful carelessness comforts her; her branches entwine him to a loving hold and his waves wash away her messy footprints of things she'd just as soon forget.

It's moments when neither of them care, lying together endlessly as time, as natural as can be with nothing but the sun and sheets and skin between them. Faces so close their eye lashes brush, lips breathing silently in movement, noses rested along the other's face, her cheeks smooth as sea glass and his as rough as a pine bed, where in that magnetic silence a binding spell is made.

**blue**

For someone who goes by the simple name of 'Red', the first time he meets her she's wearing a button up blue. He feels like he should say something about it, but he doesn't want to anger someone when he's trying to get those favors Regina was talking about. Her eyes, which are an estranged blue as well, watch him with something curious she doesn't bother to hide. No one else is here in 'Granny's Diner', so she could just as easily kick him out or curse his name like everyone else has, she doesn't have to keep up a pretense of kindness for her non existent customers. Instead she turns and walks away to most likely leave; yet to his lukewarm surprise it's only to fill up a glass of water, but he wasn't expecting her to suddenly slide it across the counter to him.

"The waters free so don't be afraid to drink it, you look like you could use it Captain." She says it with a nakedly honest smile and he likes her instantly, she could've given him dirt yet still call him Captain and he would've eaten it out of respect for the young woman. It makes him think twice about the flirt in his voice, so he tones it down.

"Thank you Miss…"

"Red, or Ruby, whichever one you prefer, it doesn't matter anyway." He raises an eyebrow at that, wanting to hear something about the story behind it, hoping she's tired enough to tell it, which to his luck she is.

"You don't know much about the old curse, do you?"

"No, can't say I do." It's one of the things that, of course, everyone would keep him in the dark about.

"Well, I don't see the harm in telling you, as long as you promise not to convert it somehow to your big bad evil scheme, okay?" He could almost roll his eyes if he could muster up the motivation.

"Do I look like a man with a plan? Forgive me, but I don't think any 'evil schemes' of mine will be happening anytime soon." She takes it as word although she waits a moment, watching him for assurance, which she seems to get. She pulls in a breath as her brows fall to a furrow, she looks to his glass of water that he's been not so causally taking chugs of for a while now before meeting his eyes, expression open and explained.

"You pirates usually like the harder stuff, right?" Now it's his turn to hesitate, he doesn't know where she's going with this.

"… Aye." She turns back to take out another glass and fills it up with a yellowed liquid, pushing it away from herself and towards him once she's done.

"Here you are Captain." He sees her now; she is the unflinchingly loyal friend who would fight till the end, who works with reason and instinct to back her. He is reminded, suddenly, of the night he and Cora fought Regina and the crocodile, the wolf that howled fearsome and unrestrained and the screams that followed, and wonders if she helped to fight in that revenge blooded feud too.

"Thank you Madame."

"Please, it's Red."

"Oh, so it is that one you prefer."

"They're both fine, I've gone by both of them for a while now." He finds his eyebrow pitching up again in question.

"That's what the curse does to you. It splits you into two people; unable to remember who you were on the other side, the magical fairy tale side, and this side, the reality crushing side. It's kind of confusing. It's just been broken recently, so now everyone remembers who they used to be, but if you cross the border line you forget everything and return to where you only remember reality you. Get it?" He doesn't quite understand it, but he'll go along with it, anything to try and get it so he can stay in here and not have to face another night outside.

"Aye, you're right; it is confusing."

"Yeah, the worst part is we can't get back, not yet anyway, we'll find a way eventually. We've got two of the most powerful magic yielders, a portal jumper, the royal family, and a whole covenant of fairies so we'll be fine." She seems to step back a bit, looking at him again; brows slightly draw together, lips pursed.

"And, well, we've got you after all, one of the most feared pirates of the seven seas, right?" His eyes have already met hers as he continues with his stare; her check in of his assured assistance of getting out of here is needed and noted, something he decides not to outright agree with because he doesn't actually know if he can.

"I am the most feared pirate of the eight seas actually, there's a hidden one most don't seem to know of." _Unless of course you're a portal jumper_ is something he decides as well to leave out.

"Well that's interesting, how many people have you told that?" She's unimpressed and he knows it, he couldn't help it if he tried.

"Not many. It wouldn't be a secret if I told everyone, only me and my crew know of it." It's the truth too, he ignores the way her eyes light up at his words and she leans closer in, as if she could smell a lie on him.

"Then why would you tell me, Captain." It's not a question formed in kindness just a statement she wants proven false as if he's lying.

"Does it look like we're anywhere near the sea?" Her eyes narrow further, a sliver of understanding burn in the afterglow.

"No."

"Then what does the knowledge matter?"

"Knowledge is power." He settles back, letting her see any fight on the matter she wants she isn't going to get from him, these weeks for him have been longer than a year. He tries to speak lightly and with a smile but their weight breaks his voice to something heavier then intended.

"Not for me."

"Not yet." It's a dare upon her tongue, something begging to be taken. He is reminded keenly of who Regina mentioned, the man with one too many hats who wanted him free, and wonders now if this woman had any part in it. She is nice enough to try, but in truth he's probably hurt one or more of her friends, she has no reason to try and help a lost renegade like him. But if he were to help, he might have something of power, a reason to keep him around; all he has to do is find out what it is. She gives him a small smile before prowling to the back of the diner sure to grab something he doesn't know what, so for a moment he sets his head down, to think. Except he only falls asleep studying the insides of his eyes.

**books**

"So, everyone's in the book, right?" Her earth worn hands prickle as she wraps her arms around him from behind as he leafs through the book's pages.

"Yes, we're not supposed to look through it though, it has everyone's story in it, better hurry and put it back before anyone notices." Her voice is calm and steady spoken, as she with turtle dove carefulness caresses her face along his battle boned spine and up between his shoulder blades; her skin soft on his own.

"Everyone who's meant to be together is in it, yeah?" His voice is coated in metal, not sharp now but strong enough to hold her captive, waking her up slightly on the edge he's reached.

"Yes." She's cautious now, doesn't want to accidentally get cut on his blade.

"Red?"

"Yes?"

"Why aren't we in it?"

"What do you mean, everyone's in it."

"Yes, but us, together, why isn't it in the book?" His question makes her feel sea sick, like she's tipping over and twisting and she can't stop herself.

"The book is only about our pasts, everything beyond that hasn't been written yet, fate is still undecided." She's gone now to stand in front of him, her hands going to hold his face to bring it down to her own, the comfort of shore in her eyes and the ocean's wind in her breath.

"What we do now is up to us, it isn't prerecorded or decided for us, if we're together it's on our own terms, no one elses. Don't let anyone tell you otherwise, and if they do I'll hit 'em over the head with a lead pipe and hide their body where no one will ever find them, okay?" He smiles at her through his eyelashes, murmuring to her in words like a lullaby.

"Okay." The smile is still on his lips when he kisses her, the sun on her tongue.

**boundaries**

It's along midnight pressed lips and smeared lipstick on the days when she pulls away, suddenly hesitant, eyes wide and sad and scared and her breath uneasy. Most nights in their part of town, the only place they can be there, twisted together closer than people are used to seeing them; he holds her, a frightened animal in his arms, calming her breath and putting her crashing waves at ease. It's the fact that it keeps happening that begins to bother him, she won't answer his questions about it either.

"_Do you hear something."_

"_No."_

"_Red, what's wrong?"_

"_Nothing. I'm fine."_

He supposes he should feel at least relieved that she's not exactly lying to him, but the fact that she won't let him in doesn't make him feels any better either. Unfortunately for her, he's always known what questions to ask.

"What was his name?" There, in the crinkle of her eye is a crack in the glass, with another hit she would break and he knows it. But in truth he doesn't want to break her, just to get it out so she can let him in. Her eyes fog up with fear, sudden and present between them. Her voice is a shudder when she speaks.

"I'm not sure I know what you're talking about."

"I think you do Red. So who is he?"

"What do you mean?" She knows exactly what he is talking about but she still refuses to acknowledge any of what he's discovered.

"The man you keep thinking about, what's his name?"

She doesn't tell Killian his name was Peter or that he had eyes wide as the moon and hands as witted as leaves and that she almost ran away with him or that he died a long, long, time ago. Instead she narrows into a heated glare, and can barely bite her bark.

"I could ask you the same thing about the woman you're thinking of, but then again you've already talked about her in front of everyone when you fought Rumplestiltskin, now haven't you? About how much you loved her and how you'd even considered settling down. So forgive me if I still hesitate on certain things, I can't be helped." She storms off then in a way she'll regret, leaving him leaning exasperated against a door way with the deserts ashes on his lips.

**break**

She's not paying any attention to the rest of the world, caught in the drifts of her own when the plate falls, waking her up to see it broken and streamed across the floor like pieces of the moon. She's caught in the state of not thinking as much as she should be as her lips murmur apologies to whoever and her hands motion to pick it all up, freezing only when she feels the pricking of pain on the ring finger of her right hand. Her namesake of red drips across the moon, sliding on it's glass edge and gathering on it. She hears voices from somewhere she doesn't care where, but it's all so zoomed in on the outside of her, then back again and zoomed out on the inside, and she feels like her head is floating tied down to a brick on a river and her body over a concrete waterfall of rotten thoughts and dead ideas and she knows where it's all going.

The full moon is a week from now.

And worst of all; she doesn't know if she can keep her control when it comes.

**burn**

"Are you sure it's supposed to feel like it's burning my skin off?"

"Aye, it says so on the box, 'a light burning sensation may occur'."

"'May occur'? Does that mean it should or should _not_ be happening?" He sighs and looks to the floor and makes her want to kiss the top of his head or something in a way that isn't quite appropriate. She continues to resist and his head pops back up anyway, eyes looking back into hers.

"Do you want to wash it off?" He's tired, of what she's not sure. But he's been acting ridiculous for a while now, and no matter what she tries to do he won't stop. She just wants things to go back to how they used to be, that semblance of normal they used to have, where things weren't forced or awkward.

"No. I got myself into this I can deal with the consequences." She looks away when it gets to be a bit much, his eyes shouldn't be able to do that to her but they do. The way they burn is worse than whatever the hell he put on her cut to clean it up.

"Are you sure dropping the plate was all that happened?" She doesn't look at him. She's noticed that he doesn't act like this around other people; he doesn't go out of his way to clean up the meaningless cuts of other people, doesn't make sure they're feeling okay, doesn't question and then trusts them when they can't find the words to answer, and doesn't stay with them when they don't want anyone else to see them. She doesn't want to think that she's special to him in someway she isn't, it would hurt. Because people don't see her, that's not the way it works. She refuses to answer herself when she asks herself how she feels about him, if she cares for him in a special way, because she's scared that if she does she'll say:

"Yes."

**buttons**

The answer to all of her problems comes in a way she never thought it would. She's pushing all the right buttons and not taking the dial tone as an answer, so when the ringing's finally stopped and he's finally picked up she can at least try and speak some sense into him.

"Is there any actual reason as to why you're calling me at," there's a sound of twisting and movement, "one in the morning."

"Have you ever heard of The Decemberists?"

"What even is that?"

"They're a band."


End file.
